


hope is a heartache

by aliceinacoma



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, but warning just in case i guess, dub-con, kind of but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28941399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceinacoma/pseuds/aliceinacoma
Summary: It isn’t fair, she thinks. Why does she have to love him if he isn’t her soul mate?-College AU.
Relationships: Jake Peralta & Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 8
Kudos: 88





	hope is a heartache

She’s stopped paying attention to the movie long ago, somewhere around the time that Jake shifted back deeper into the couch, bringing his right leg up to rest on the coffee table in front of them. Generally, she’d reprimand him - it’s a _table_ , for godsake, Jake, feet don’t belong there! - except that the movement has caused his leg to land mere inches from her own, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating off of him, and, really, what’s she supposed to do now? Her brain short circuits at the proximity, fire alarms going off in her head alerting her to exactly how easy it would be to close the distance between them.

She doesn’t, but it’s all she focuses on for the next hour, which is fine, really. The movie’s only so-so as far as she could tell before the leg drama. The problem is that it’s Jake, so of course, he notices.

“You doing okay, Santiago?” he asks breezily, glancing over at her with one raised eye brow.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine!” she insists, too loud and an octave higher than normal, the way she always does when she’s lying.

Jake frowns, sitting up on the couch and taking his leg with him. Her knee tingles at the loss of the near-contact, but she lets out a silent sigh of relief.

“You sure?” he asks, turning towards her. “We can always watch something else if you want. And it doesn’t even have to be _Die Hard_.”

Amy rolls her eyes but smiles at him anyway. “Wow, what a gentleman,” she teases. “Really, I’m fine though. I just… have a lot on my mind, I guess.”

It’s the wrong answer because Jake’s frown only deepens, and he shuffles closer to her. Amy wonders if he can hear her heart pounding in her chest; it’s become her own personal soundtrack.

“Do you wanna, I don’t know, talk about it?” he asks. Amy licks her lips, studying his face as she leans towards her. He really means that, she knows, really wants to help, even if all he can do is listen, and, well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? Because as much as she does want to talk about it, she also wants to stamp it down and hope it dies out on its own.

Unfortunately for her, she’s had some variation on this thought process for a little over a year now, since last Halloween when Jake sauntered into Holt’s History of the Americas class dressed as _her_ , dark wig and all, and she couldn’t manage to muster up any outrage or horror over the affair, just a dewy sort of fondness that ballooned in her chest. A full rotation of the earth around the sun (and then some) later, it hasn’t really faded, and Amy’s resigned herself to the unavoidable truth that this is what it feels like to fall in love with Jake Peralta.

“It’s not a big deal,” she assures him. “Mostly just school stuff.”

Jake’s expression softens into a teasing grin. “I keep telling you to just chill out about school, Ames,” he says. “I bet you’d still be top of the class without even trying.”

“You just want me to throw our bet.”

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing? I want to win fair and square. I just think you need to relax.” He smirks at her, leaning back onto the arm of the couch. “You’re so uptight.”

“I’m just as uptight as I like, thank you very much,” she says primly.

“Title of your sex tape,” he quips, smirk broader.

Amy rolls her eyes. “Lame. That didn’t make any sense, Jake.”

“The way you have sex, I’m sure it did.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know how I have sex?” she snaps before she can censor herself. Jake’s expression changes, smile dropping off his face, eyes hooded as he licks his lips and clears his throat once.

“Gross,” he says. “No way.”

Only any idiot could see he doesn’t think it’s so gross after all, and Amy Santiago’s no idiot. They’ve been here before, more times than she can count, and she knows it’s her move, her chance to tip the scales on their relationship from friends to something more - but she can never make herself quite leap off that cliff.

She swallows, fingers itching to tuck her hair behind her ears, but she valiantly resists, instead picking on an errant string on her pants. Jake’s eyes drift from her face back to the TV, and silence passes between them momentarily until he says, softly, “Sorry.”

Amy glances at him, confused. “What?”

“Sorry about the, you know, sex tape stuff,” says Jake, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I know it, uh, makes you uncomfortable.”

Amy turns toward him more fully. “No it doesn’t,” she says. Jake’s eyes find hers.

“It doesn’t?”

“No,” she clarifies. “I just hate that you’re so much better at it than me.”

Jake blinks at her statement then bursts into laughter. “Wow, Santiago,” he chuckles. “You are just so consistent.”

“I choose to take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

He grins at her, wide and unassuming, so she reaches over to pat him on the leg.

“We’re good, Jake,” she says, and she means to pull her hand away, she really does, but now that she’s touched him, it’s like her body takes over on instinct. As Jake looks from her hand to her face, she’s already leaning towards him, catching his mouth firmly with hers. He grunts in surprise, but before she can pull away and apologize, his hands encircle her waist, pulling her towards him. She loses herself in the kiss, a thrill running down her spine as his mouth parts under hers and his thumb brushes the skin just above the waistband of her jeans. It would be embarrassing, the way she’s practically panting when he breaks the kiss, except that he’s doing the same and looking at her like she’s some sort of miracle.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, kissing her again. Somehow he manages to simultaneously ease his tongue into her mouth and maneuver them so that she’s sprawled out on the couch, Jake hovering over her, one hand in her hair as the other makes its way up her shirt. The thinking part of her brain, the part she can’t turn off, even when she should, tells her that she’s never felt like this before, like something’s cracked open inside of her chest. Her body turns into a river as he touches her, and she could melt into him and disappear with one more kiss.

But it’s that same part of her brain that betrays her. It dawns on her slowly, but as soon as the realization hits, she can’t help the way she tenses up underneath him, going rigid as tears well up behind her eyes. Determined to ignore them, she escalates the kiss, fisting her hands in his shirt and hooking one leg around his hips.

He sees right through her anyway.

“Hey,” he says, breaking the kiss. “What’s wrong? Did I - god, Amy, I’m so sorry - “

“Stop apologizing,” she says as a tear spills onto her cheek. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Jake pulls back even more. “Right, cause girls are supposed to cry when you kiss them. That’s how you know you’re doing it right.”

Amy lets out a strangled laugh that turns into a sob. Wordlessly, she grabs the front of Jake’s shirt and drags him forward until he’s half on top of her in a hug, her face buried in the crook of her neck. Gingerly, he strokes her hair, murmuring her name.

 _It isn’t fair,_ she thinks. Why does she have to love him if he isn’t her soul mate?

—

Okay, wait, maybe we should back up.

She hasn’t always loved Jake. If you’d asked Amy the second time after meeting Jake Peralta what she thought of him, she would have rolled her eyes and called him “wildly immature.” And it stayed that way until the Cupcake Incident.

Sophomore year, noon on one of those first really warm spring days. Amy had been fresh off of receiving a B+ on an essay - an absolute embarrassment! - and she’d nearly made her way to the cafeteria when she heard the familiar, unwelcome greeting of, “Santiago, fancy meeting you here.”

Taking in a deep breath, Amy turned around and found Peralta hurrying to match her stride. He wore his trademark flannel and goody grin, his hair sticking up on one side of his head like he’d _just_ rolled out of bed. She wouldn’t have been surprised to learn this was true.

“What do you want, Jake?” she snapped, walking a little faster so he had to struggle to keep up with her.

“Just saying hi to my favorite senior citizen,” he said with a grin.

Amy rolled her eyes. “You think you’re so funny, Jake, but your jokes really aren’t clever.”

“Oooh, ouch, Santiago, it almost feels like you’re not happy to see me!”

“Well, maybe you should take the hint,” she snapped, grabbing a tray from the stack. Jake froze next to her, smile dropping from his face.

“Right,” he said. “Uh, sorry.”

Awkwardly, he shuffled back and forth on his feet, looking anywhere but her face. Amy’s heart constricted; for the briefest moment, she almost wanted to apologize, but she stamped it down. Jake owed her an apology for all the teasing and goading and general rudeness. Her need to soothe his feelings was just her knee-jerk reaction to being socialized as a woman.

Right?

Eventually, he rubbed the back of his neck, flashing her an uneasy grin as he reached for his own tray.

“I’m gonna just…” he said, gesturing around the caf. “See ya.”

And then he was gone, headed off towards the sandwich station. Amy let out a breath, squaring her shoulders and heading in the same direction to pick out her lunch. Th bright side of Peralta’s harassment was that it had taken her out of her own head, at least. With a little distance, she could see that her misery over her B+ was largely an overreaction. She’d work hard on the next paper and right the ship easily. And to make herself feel better in the meantime, she’d get one of those amazing cupcakes as a treat.

Despite the cafeteria food mostly consisting of run-of-the-mill college fare, every Tuesday, they made these giant, _delicious_ cupcakes with some of the most decadent buttercream frosting Amy had ever tasted, She didn’t indulge all that often, but today the cupcakes felt like a pick-me-up she definitely needed.

It was her lucky day because as she walked over to the display case, she saw only one lone cupcake left. Eagerly, she opened the case’s door to grab it, when suddenly a hand swooped in and snatched it away.

“Too slow, Santiago,” said an all-too-familiar voice. Amy whirled around to find Keith Pembroke, resident asshole, standing there, her cupcake in hand. Typical. As irritating as Peralta could be, he looked like a saint next to Pembroke, who appeared to have made it his life mission to make everyone around him just that much more miserable. He insisted everyone called him the Vulture because, as he said, he was “in the business of swooping in on your girl, your dreams, and your joy.”

Amy would have told him it was a stupid motto if she hadn’t been just a little bit afraid of him.

“That was mine,” she said. Pembroke laughed.

“Not any more, loser,” he said. “Finders keepers.”

“Fine. Whatever,” she muttered, picking up her tray and heading towards an empty table. Clearly, the universe was out to get her today.

Accepting defeat, she slid into a chair on the corner of a long table and pulled out her crossword from the morning newspaper. That would cheer her up, and, in fact, she did find herself getting lost in the puzzle, so much so that, ten minutes later, she had to stamp down a yelp as Peralta plopped down into the seat across from her, depositing her stolen cupcake onto her tray.

Amy looked up at him in alarm, and he grinned, raising one eyebrow at her.

“How - ?” she asked.

Jake’s grin expanded across his whole face. “Rosa used her womanly wiles on the Vulture and distracted him while I stole it back.”

Amy raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Rosa has womanly wiles?”

“Well, they’re not for everyone,” conceded Jake. "But they worked on Pembroke."

Gingerly, Amy picked up the cupcake, peeling of the wrapper. The she set it back down on her tray, eying the boy across from her. He hadn’t moved, his arms still crossed on the table in front of him.

“Not that I’m not grateful,” she said finally. “But why would you do this for me?”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Contrary to popular belief, Santiago, I don’t hate you.”

“Really,” said Amy wryly. “Cause you definitely act like you do.”

“No,” said Jake, shaking his head. “I just like winding you up. But it’s not fun if you’re not playing along.”

Despite her head screaming at her not to be endeared by this confession, she had to admit it touched her in an odd way. Until now, she’d always thought that Jake and his friends were laughing at her expense; it had never occurred to her that their strange rivalry might actually be some bizarre form of affection.

Something warm blossomed in her chest.

“So this is a selfish cupcake,” she said finally. “You just want your parring partner back.”

Jake laughed, big and full. “Absolutely. So eat up.”

And that’s how they became friends. Not that they were _besties_ or anything, but she found herself developing a strange affection for him. In so many ways, he was her complete opposite: messy, immature, always looking for the next party or adventure at the expense of his school work. She’d never really been one for parties or adventure, but by Halloween her junior year, she found that had changed somewhere along the way. She still made sure she kept her grades up, but spontaneous detours cropped up more and more, mostly because Jake would pop up in the library and drag her away from her books to see the latest bad action movie or sneak into a concert they didn’t have tickets for or try Charles’ latest (sometimes terrible, sometimes mind-blowing) culinary concoction.

While she was loathe to admit it, for the first time in her life, she was having real, honest-to-god fun, probably because she had actual friends now: Charles, Jake’s best friend who perpetually accidentally spoke in innuendo; Rosa, the terrifying pre-med student who’s bedroom wall feature a collection of knives; Terry, Professor Holt’s TA who loved to dish over literal tea; and even Gina, who’s grown up with Jake, didn’t make fun of her as much anymore.

Cheesy as it was, she sort of felt like she’d found a little family. So it was really awkward then that she had to go develop this massive crush on Jake.

Honestly, she was disappointed in herself the day she realized what was happening with the butterflies in her stomach. She’d spent so much time rolling her eyes at the girls who fawned over Peralta, thinking she was better than them, and now here she was, half in love with a boy whose favorite drink was orange soda, like an eight year old.

The universe really thought it was funny.

The revelation about her feelings for Jake didn’t change much, though, because Jake, thank god, was oblivious to the way she turned into metaphorical spaghetti around him. He just soldiered on in his usual way, texting her stupid memes, distracting her in class, showing up at her apartment on random days of the week for unscheduled movie nights. The more he forced his way into her daily existence, the more she fell, but she held back, unwilling to make a move because a) what if he did like her back and b) what if he wasn’t her soul mate?

She didn’t know if she wanted the answer to either question.

-

Okay. Wait. Maybe we should back up.

Amy first learned about soul mates when she was seven. Marco, her oldest brother, came home from a date with Lisa, the girl he’d been crushing on at school, and announced that he’d felt it - he’d kissed Lisa, and he’d felt the strike. Mama and Papi broke out the rum in celebration, even though Marco was just eighteen.

“What’s the strike?” Amy asked, sitting next to Mama on the couch. Camila smiled, running a hand through her hair.

“Everybody on the earth has a perfect match,” she explained softly. “Someone who we fit together with perfectly. And the way you know you’ve found your soul mate is that the first time you kiss, you feel a strike.”

“What’s it feel like?”

Camila considered for a moment. “Like lightning,” she said. “But softer, straight to the heart. And when you feel it, you just know.”

“Know?”

“Know that this person will always care for your heart no matter way.”

Over the years, Amy’s approach to soul mates varied: from ages ten to thirteen, she cultivated an extensive binder to narrow down the most accurate ways to find her soul mate. From thirteen to fifteen, she refused to think about it at all, convinced that if she tried to hard she’d spook her soul match away.

And then at sixteen, she met Teddy.

They met at Model UN, bonding over the haphazard way the teachers were running the convention. He was England; she was France - could she make it any more obvious? Three days later, he called her at her house and asked to take her out for ice cream. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered all day as she waited for him to pick her up, and she could feel it, this was it. She’d finally found her soul mate - and before David too!

They sat outside the ice cream shoppe on a bench, watching the sun set, and when Teddy leaned in and kissed her, she felt nothing except the blush across her face. No lightning. No strike.

And that was when Amy Santiago decided she didn’t care about soul mates.

She continued to date Teddy, despite not being his match, and any time anybody commented on it, she was proudly declared that she didn’t believe in soul mates. She was, after all, a smart, independent woman. Who was the universe to decide who she should and should not be with? Unmatched couples weren’t even that rare. Most people dated around before they met their soul match, and some even ended up happily married, which Amy took as proof that the universe could be wrong sometimes.

Kylie, her best friend and debate partners, saw it a little differently.

“Oh please,” she scoffed as she drove Amy home one afternoon. “You do too believe in soul mates.”

“No I don’t,” insisted Amy. “I think it’s ridiculous to suggest that there’s one perfect person for you in the world who just so happens to be alive at the exact same time as you. It’s totally logically unsound.”

Kylie rolled her eyes. “Amy, you’re a closeted romantic. You act all tough, but I know it’s just cause you don’t like to lose control. And soul mates? There’s no controlling that.”

Crossing her arms, Amy scowled out the window. “Well there should be.”

“Look, date whoever you want, okay? I’m just saying maybe find somebody more interesting than the most boring man in America.”

Amy rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to argue. Perhaps mostly out of spite, she continued to date Teddy for three years, well into her first year of college. It was a testament to her stubbornness that she stuck with it so long, even as every conversation between them felt more and more like dragging nails down a chalkboard.

It probably wasn’t fair of her to tell him that when she finally broke up with him, but she couldn’t muster up the energy to feel to bad about it either.

After that, she threw herself into her studies, hoping to put off thoughts of soul mates at least until she’d finished college, but now here she was, back in the same position, agonizing over whether Jake could possibly be The One and what to do if he wasn’t. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn’t just want to find her soul mate anymore. It used to feel like a valiant task, searching the world over for her perfect match, but the more she worried over the whole thing, the more certain she felt that she’d rather have no soul mate than one who wasn’t Jake.

Which, well, just made her feel absolutely ridiculous.

“Did you know Sharon was your soul mate before you, you know, felt the strike?” she asked Terry one day as they studied together in the library. He looked up from his art history textbook, eyebrows raised in surprise at her impromptu question.

“I hoped so,” he admitted. “But no, I didn’t know for sure.”

Amy nodded, chewing on the end of her pen in thought as Terry studied her face.

“You got your eye on somebody, Santiago?” he teased lightly. Amy blushed, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Oh, no,” she said hastily. Then off of his disbelieving look, she groaned, “Fine. Yes. It _sucks_.” Dropped her chin into her left hand she added, “I just don’t want to be wrong. I’ve been wrong before, and it was terrible.”

“Being wrong is not your forte, Terry knows that,” he offered. “But maybe you should talk to him about it. Or just go for it. I have a feeling Jake wouldn’t mind making out with you even if he isn’t your soul mate.”

Amy sat up, spine rigid at his words, her eyes wide with shock. “Jake? I didn’t say anything about Jake.” She forced a laugh. “Very funny, Terry. _Jake_ , can you imagine?”

Terry rolled his eyes. “Come on, Amy. You’re not very subtle.”

“Oh god,” whined Amy. “Oh god! Everybody knows, don’t they? Oh no, does Jake know?”

Terry chuckled, holding his hands up. “Luckily for you, Peralta’s an idiot.” She breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing in her chair.

“Just tell him, Amy,” said Terry gently. “You might be surprised how it goes.”

“But,” said Amy, frowning. “What if I’m wrong?”

“If it’s not meant to be then later you’ll look back on this as an important part of your journey,” said Terry. “Or you’ll end up married anyway. Not everybody needs their soul mate to live happily ever after. You just gotta trust.”

Right. _Trust._

She mulled over Terry’s advice for weeks after that, trying desperately to find the courage to confront Jake about her feelings. It might have been easier if she had any idea about the way he felt about _her_ , but Jake was an enigma. He’d spend an entire party by her side and then go home with a different girl at the end of the night. He’d encourage her to go out with boys who asked, but nine times out of ten, he found a way to ruin her date or simply rag on the ones she found remotely interesting. There were even times she'd catch him looking at her in a way she _hoped_ was romantic, but then he never made anything close to a move. No matter which way she looked at it, nothing added up.

Then Rosa’s birthday rolled around. They all went out for drinks at Shaw’s, the bar close to campus that had cheap beer and a laid-back ambience. In celebration of her roommate, Amy decided it was okay for her to get drunk on a Wednesday night and missed her nine am statistics class just this once.

Two hours in, Rosa slid up to her at the bar, a scowl on her face. Amy glanced up at her expectantly.

“Would you and Jake just bone already?” asked Rosa darkly. “Your stupid sexual tension is annoying.”

“What?” asked Amy, surprised, but Rosa was already barreling on.

“If you tell anybody this, I’ll deny it, but I think you two would be good for each other,” she said. “You balance each other out.” Scoffing, she added, “God I’m drunk,” before stalking away, leaving Amy alone and very perplexed.

“Uh-oh,” said Jake, smoothly coming up to take Rosa’s place. “What drink is that, Santiago?”

“This will be three,” she said, taking a sip. Jake grinned.

“Amy Dancepants, nice to see you again,” he teased. “Excited for you to break out your killer moves.”

Amy snorted. “I’m going slow, Jake. Trying to keep it together. I’m not ever really drunk yet.”

“No, don’t keep it together!” begged Jake, a little whine in his voice. “Drunk Amy is so adorable.”

He grinned as he said it, flushing a little red when she stared back up at him over the rim of her drink. His hair curled soft against his forehead, the way it did when he’d just showered, and she wondered what it’d be like to run her hands through it.

 _This is it,_ she thought, taking a big swig of her whiskey sour.

The next thing she remembered, she was in her bed, waking up to the sunlight too bright on her face, head pounding in agony. She groggily stumbled out towards the kitchen for some coffee and found Jake and Rosa sitting at the table, chatting lowly over breakfast. They both looked up as she entered the room.

“Ha, you look like shit,” said Rosa, leaning back in her chair. “You were crazy last night, Santiago. Best birthday gift ever.”

“Oh god,” said Amy, carefully taking a seat at the table. Everything was too much: the lights, the sound of the humming refrigerator, Jake’s smile. “I think my brain exploded.”

“Yes, well, we were all very pleased to meet nine drink Amy last night,” said Jake. "Didn't know you could speak fluent French, honestly, and then you threw up and I had to help get you home, and I just, uh, crashed on your couch.”

“Right,” said Amy, struggling to recall anything he’d just said. “Thanks.”

“No probs,” he responded, shooting a finger gun at her with a wide, somewhat nervous grin. Amy glanced away, laying her head down on the cool kitchen table. Last night washed over her in a blur, none of her memories concrete enough to make any real sense of the events. She’d been so determined to make something happen between her and Jake, but she’d overdone it with the drinking in an attempt to ease her nerves.

“You want coffee?” he asked now, reaching over to curl his fingers gently around her bicep. She tensed at the contact and after a brief moment he pulled away, clearing his throat. She sucked in a breath, looking up at him. She felt a tug in her gut as she caught his eye. In truth, all she wanted was to crawl into his lap and let him take care of her, but she thought maybe hungover wasn’t the best state in which to attempt to seduce her best friend, so instead she shook her head.

“No,” she said. “I’m just gonna go back to sleep.” She rose out of her chair and stumbled back towards her room.

“Okay,” said Jake, voice a little uncertain. “Uh, I’ll see you later I guess?”

“Sure,” she said over her shoulder. Shuffling into her room, she collapsed onto her bed and fell into a fitful sleep until noon. When she finally managed to get herself into the kitchen for some food and coffee, she found a text waiting for her on her phone from Jake.

_hey hope u feel better! let me know if i can get u anything_

Amy grinned, responding quickly.

_THANK YOU! I feel much better now. Sorry I was such a mess last night._

She watched as the ellipses appeared as Jake typed back.

 _no worries_ , he said. And then a second later, _wanna hang 2nite?_

Amy chewed on her bottom lip, considering. As much as she always thrilled with the opportunity to hang out with Jake, her recent - _ahem_ \- _distractions_ meant she was behind on some of her work, and with finals coming up she really needed to get in some solid nights of studying.

She typed back, _Can’t tonight. Gotta catch up on work. But we’ll get lunch tomorrow after Holt’s class, right?_

This time, the ellipses appeared for a full minute before disappearing and then reappearing again two more times. Five minutes later, his response popped up:

_sure. have fun studying, nerd_

She spent the rest of the night wondering what it was he couldn’t quite bring himself to say.

-

As junior year came to a close, finals became all-consuming. She’d been warned not to take on too much her junior year as far as coursework, since the classes were all infinitely harder than they’d been before, but of course she hadn’t listened, signing up for every upper-level class that sounded even remotely interesting. This meant, however, that while everyone else was spending their final weekend of the school year partying, she was locked away in the library trying to finish four term papers and prep for six different exams. Her hair took the brunt of her stress as she braided and unbraided it while she poured over her notes, but fortunately, looking absolutely batshit (Gina’s words) afforded her peace and quiet, since nobody wanted to talk to her out of abject terror.

Nobody except for Jake.

“Come on, Santiago, just come with us to this party, just for a little bit,” he begged, giving her the wide puppy-dog eyes that usually caused her to cave. This time, though, she glared at him.

“Jake! I don’t have time for parties. I don’t have time to sleep or, quite frankly, breathe,” she snapped. “If I’m going to pass all my finals, I have to study.”

Jake’s shoulders slumped at her response, and he looked down at the table between them, piled high with her notebooks and study materials. Something in his gaze made her pause.

"Sorry," she said softly. "Sorry, Jake. I just... I can't." 

He looked up at her, catching her eye, and briefly Amy was aware that something was passing between them that she didn't have any control over. Whatever it was, though, Jake nodded and stood up, offering her the smallest of smiles. 

"It's okay," he said. "I get it. I'll see you around, Santiago."

He was gone before she could figure out what she'd missed. 

The following week was a blur of tests and rewrites and final drafts, and by the time Amy reached Friday afternoon and handed in her last paper, she was practically screaming with joy. She hurried to the cafe where she'd promised to meet her friends, greeting them all with a huge grin as she plopped down on the couch next to Jake, her giddiness emboldening her enough to fold her right leg under her thigh so that her knee rested on his thigh. 

"Seems like Amy's missing her trademark Santiago Sadness after finishing a test," drawled Gina drily. "Remember last semester when she cried?"

"Ha ha, Gina, I did not _cry,_ " she insisted. "I just teared up a little. Finishing a test is such a bummer!"

"I know you think that sounds better, but it so doesn't," said Jake, grinning at her. She shoved him on the arm. 

"Make fun of me all you want, cause I don't care. I'm done!" she squealed. "Let's get drunk!" 

"I'm down," said Rosa. "Shaw's?"

"Great, now you guys can meet Sophia," said Jake cheerily as they all stood up to head out of the coffee shop. Amy frowned at him, turning around to walk backwards as she asked, "Sophia?" 

"My new boo," he said. Amy’s heart stuttered to a stop, along with her feet. Charles, who had been walking just behind her, ran straight into her, but she barely felt it as she stared up at Jake, open-mouth. His words echoed in her mind, and she forced herself to face forward and put one foot in front of the other.

When her mind cleared, she focused in on the conversation just as Gina was saying, “You two have frenched, right?”

“Oh, we’ve more than frenched,” bragged Jake, with an exaggerated raise of his eyebrows.

“So is she your soul mate or what?”

At this, Jake shrugged like it was no big deal, but she caught the way his shoulders tensed just slightly as he said, “Nah, but I already knew that before, so. No biggie.”

Amy frowned at that, wondering how Jake could possibly have that sort of foresight. Before she could ask, though, everyone else jumped in with their own questions, ultimately turning the conversation from Jake’s love life to their plans for the summer. Amy marched forward, a little numb, not even bothering to feign interest. All that time she’d spent agonizing over how to convey her feelings to Jake, and now, just like that, he had a girlfriend.

Next to her, Terry slipped his hand into hers, offering a brief squeeze of comfort.

She held on for dear life.

-

The problem with Sophia was that there were no problems with Sophia. She was, quite literally, Jake’s perfect equal in every way: she loved _Die Hard,_ found all of his jokes genuinely funny, ate all the junk food she wanted. Much like Jake, she also possessed an ease in social situations that Amy herself had never quite been able to cultivate. In fact, if she’d been asked to craft a soul mate for Jake, there would have been a high probability that Sophia would have been the end product. What bemused Amy, then, was that Sophia wasn’t his perfect match.

It irked her more that he hadn’t found his soul mate, mostly because he seemed to be so earnestly infatuated. If it had been the work of some divine power, Amy reasoned, she might have been able to let go with a bit more grace, to simply pack her feelings back up into her heart in service to a higher power. But watching Jake fall in love with someone he wasn’t matched with left her aching in a way she could barely admit to herself. A small part of her berated herself every time she saw them together: she could have had that, if only she weren’t such a coward. But then a larger part, the more intimidating part, would show up and argue that if Sophia was the type of girl he wanted, she never had a chance with him in the first place.

Ultimately, she decided, this really all was for the best.

As much as she repeated this mantra in her brain, however, her heart had other, pettier inclinations. Having secured an internship at an art gallery for the summer, she threw herself into work as much as she could, pushing thoughts of Jake and Sophia far out of her mind. All her time not spent at work, she spent out of the house - taking in museums, going drinking with Rosa and Gina, going on dates. A week into July, she had perfected the art of the one night stand, a feat seventeen year old Amy would have gawked at. And she really was having some fun, if she was honest about it. She’d rarely allowed herself to let loose this way in the past, and she found that, momentarily anyway, it was exactly what she needed.

Best of all, she was so busy she never had any time for Jake. When she knew he was headed over to hang out with Rosa, she inevitably had some place else to be, and after the fifth time of her sidestepping making plans with him over text, he either got the message or he simply became too wrapped up in Sophia to think much of Amy anymore. She tried not to consider which option might be the more accurate.

Each morning, she woke up feeling like a newer, shinier person; she put on her sneakers and ran five miles like she was born for nothing else.

But she couldn’t run forever.

A week before school was about to start up again, she made the mistake of stopping in at this little cafe Jake had introduced her to. She’d mostly managed to avoid their usual spots, but as she passed by the cafe towards the end of her morning run, she reasoned there couldn’t be any harm in stopping in for a coffee and a muffin. The likelihood of Jake being here at nine in the morning was so slim, given that he always slept until at least eleven if he could help it.

Apparently today was the day he couldn’t help it.

“Amy?”

She flipped her head around at the sound of her name, catching sight of Jake standing near the pick-up counter, hands in his pockets as he took her in. An expression of longing flashed across his features before he settled into a smile. She couldn’t help it; her mouth mirrored his immediately. All she wanted was to hurry over and envelop him into a hug, but she resisted, offering a small wave instead.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” replied Jake, closing the gap between them. “It’s, um, it’s been a while - “

“Hey!” another voice interjected, and Amy turned to find Sophia approaching them from the bathroom, an expectant smile on her lips. She looked from Jake to Amy.

“Oh, hey, um, look who I found,” said Jake, clearing his throat and taking an awkward step back from Amy. He ran a hand through his hair as Sophia’s eyes filled with recognition.

“Oh! Amy, right?” she said brightly. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

Amy forced a smile. “I’m good. Just, uh, grabbing coffee after my run.”

“Nice. This place is great, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, the best.” An awkward silence enveloped them momentarily, until Amy asked, “Umm, what are you two up to?”

Jake shrugged. “Not much. It’s a nice day, so we thought we’d head to the park.”

Amy nodded, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Cool! The park. That’s…cool.”

“ _Toit,_ some might say,” quipped Jake. Amy grinned broadly.

“The toitest.”

For a brief moment, it almost felt like the summer had never happened. Standing a few feet from each other in the coffee shop, Amy swore it felt much more like mid-April than the blistering August day it was. An ache washed over her, and all the pain she’d put off feeling over the summer flooded her heart. She missed Jake. There was no denying it when he was standing right in front of her.

Sophia glanced between them, the barest impression of a frown gracing her face, but finally she broke the silence with a cheery, “Well! We’d better get going Jake, yeah?”

Jake nodded, reaching for her hand. “Yep. Those Central Park pigeons await. Ames,” he said with a salute. She offered him one back.

“As you were.”

She didn’t look after them as they exited the cafe, keeping her eyes faced towards the menu board hanging up above, and she didn’t bother to wonder whether Jake looked after her either.

-

After the run-in at the cafe, she relaxed her moratorium on Jake contact ever so slightly. School was starting up,for one thing, and even if they didn’t have any classes together, it would have been nearly impossible for her to avoid him as expertly as she had over the summer. Plus, she’d missed him, and even if it meant seeing him with Sophia, she didn’t want to let their friendship die just because she had a stupid, unrequited crush. She was a senior in college, after all; she was a much bigger person than that.

And it was fine, mostly. Jake still pulled her metaphorical pigtails and dragged her on adventures she would never have considered on her own. He just did it less frequently, but that was fine. Really.

“Yeah right,” said Rosa one night as they sat in front of a rerun of _Law and Order_. They’d never discussed the whole Jake problem since her birthday in the spring, but something had obviously pushed her over the edge. She sat across from Amy on the couch, frowning deeply at her as she sipped a beer. “You can’t be okay with this.”

“I don’t have to be okay with it,” said Amy simply. “If he’s happy, he’s happy. I don’t want to make it awkward between us just because I can’t be a grown up about my feelings. Besides,” she added, fiddling with the label on her own beer bottle, “if it’s Sophia he wants, I’m sure he’d never be interested in me.”

Rose snorted. “You’re kidding, right?”

Amy couldn’t bring herself to look at her. She didn’t consider herself a self-conscious person. She knew who she was, idiosyncrasies and all, and mostly she was proud of it - but being self aware meant that she knew boys like Jake usually found themselves too cool for girls like her. It was stupid and unfair, but it was just reality.

“Amy, that’s dumb,” said Rosa seriously. “Look, Sophia’s great, but your soul mate’s supposed to help you grow and be like a better person and shit, and Jake only does that crap around you.”

“Really cause Jake mostly acts like a child around me,” Amy retorted.

“Sure, but only cause you play along.”

Well, she couldn’t very well deny that, couldn’t she?

“I’m surprised you care so much about this,” she said, shifting the conversation. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who cares about soul mates.”

“Are you kidding?” scoffed Rosa. “I can’t wait to find my soul mate, so we can talk shit about everybody else.”

Amy laughed. “How romantic.”

It didn’t really matter what Rosa had to say about the situation, though, because Amy had resigned herself to the fact that Jake, for the foreseeable future anyway, had chosen Sophia. The strange thing was that, even as she wanted to melt into the floor every time she saw them together, it also made her heart swell to see Jake this happy. If she had to get over herself to let that continue to be true, then so be it.

She’d just have to move on.

-

The first Tuesday in October, she came home late from a study session with her lab partner to find Rosa sitting on the couch, typing furiously on her laptop. Without glancing up, she said, “Hey. Jake’s in your room.”

Amy nearly dropped her water bottle on the floor. “What?” she asked.

Rosa spared her a serious glance. “I think something happened. He seemed...upset.”

“Right,” said Amy with a nod and set off down the hallway towards her room. Her door was cracked open but no light shone from the bedroom. Cautiously, she pushed open the door and eased her way inside, where she found Jake on her bed, lying on top of the duvet with his feet hanging off the edge. She sucked in a breath. Jake had been in her room plenty of times in the past, but something about this - the position, the length of time since they’d last been truly alone - spiked her adrenaline in an almost primal way.

She shook her head and cleared her throat.

“Jake?”

He half sat up at the sound of his name, leaning back on his forearms to look at her. “Hey,” he said, voice a little hoarse.

“What’s up?” she asked, dropping her bag next to her desk and taking a couple steps forward.

“Nothing,” he responded. Then, “Sophia broke up with me.”

Amy’s heart fluttered to a stop.

“Oh,” she said breathlessly. “Jake, I’m so sorry.”

Nodding, he flopped back onto her bed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.Amy hovered near the edge of the bed, uncertain how to proceed. “Sorry,” he said. “For, you know, being in your room.”

“No, it’s okay,” she assured him. Coming to a decision, she stepped towards the bed, lying down next to him so they were almost shoulder to shoulder. “You can be in here.”

“Really?” Jake asked, turning his head to look at her. A strip of light from the hallway illuminated half of his face as he licked his lips. “Cause, uh, it seemed like you might be, uh, mad at me for, you know…”

“No,” said Amy firmly. “I’m not mad at you.”

Softly, he exhaled a breath of relief, but he didn’t turn away. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on her face.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” asked Amy quietly.

Jake shrugged. “I don’t know if there’s much to talk about. She liked me and then she…got bored, I guess. It was bound to happen at some point.”

Amy frowned. “Don’t say that, Jake.”

He didn’t respond, turning his face to gaze up at the ceiling. For a moment, Amy counted her breaths - in, out - trying to figure out what she was meant to say, but eventually Jake spoke again, softer this time. “You know, my parents are soul mates.”

“Really?” Amy asked in surprise. She’d have never guess that, based on the stories he’d told her about his dad.

Jake nodded. “When I was a kid for a while after my dad left, I thought the whole thing was stupid. I mean, your soul mate’s supposed to protect your heart, right? That’s the whole thing. But I watched my mom cry so much when she thought I wasn’t looking, and I couldn’t understand how a soul mate could _do_ that. So I figured they were just bullshit. But,” he said, turning on the bed so he was facing fully towards, “maybe the universe makes mistakes sometimes? It can’t be right one hundred percent of the time.”

Amy frowned. She’d lost his meaning somewhere along the way, but he looked at her so open and earnestly, she could only give him the acknowledgment he craved. Slipping her hand into his against the bed, she said, “I’m sorry, Jake.”

His face fell slightly, but he offered her a half-hearted smile anyway, gripping her hand more tightly in his.

“Just…don’t leave me, okay, Ames?” he murmured, stroking her thumb with his.

 _Never_ , she thought, but she couldn’t force the word past her tongue.

-

Okay, wait - so, anyway, back to our regularly scheduled programming: Amy’s couch, a month later.

She breathes in shakily as she clings to Jake for several long beats of silence. If she just stays here like this, she reasons, they’ll never have to talk about it, never have to acknowledge what she’s feared from the start: he isn’t her soul mate, and he never could be. Unfortunately for her, somewhere along the way, Jake’s developed a sense of maturity, so he pulls out of her grasp gently, sitting back on the couch with his legs folded underneath him, his face all concern as he gazes down at her.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice pleading. “I thought - I mean…” Shaking his head, he takes a deep breath and says, “You really don’t want this, huh?”

Amy frowns, wiping away an errant tear. Sitting up, she says, “No I _do_. I want- I want this _so much_. That’s the problem.” The tears start to flow freely, marking trails down her chin. “I - I know it’s stupid, and I know people get together and - and fall in love with people who aren’t their soul mates all the time, but I just - I really wanted it to be you. I _really_ wanted it.”

Bringing her knees up to her chest, she rests her forehead against them. She can’t look back up at Jake, can’t bear to meet the pity in his eyes. She’s not sure what’s supposed to happen next, or how they go back to normal after a confession like that.

“What?” asks Jake, bewildered. She groans.

“I know it’s dumb, okay? It was stupid to ever think I’d be your soul mate - “

“Amy,” he interrupts her, leaning forward to grab her arms, “what are you talking about? We _are_ soul mates.”

Amy looks up at him, frowning. “What? No we’re not.”

“Yes, we are,” insists Jake.

“Jake, I’m not an idiot. We _just_ kissed, and there wasn’t any lightning. No strike. Nothing.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say nothing,” says Jake with the barest smirk.

“Jake!” snaps Amy. “I’m serious. The first time you kiss your soul mate, it’s supposed to be, like, you know…”

“Yeah, I know how it works, Ames, but that wasn’t the first time we kissed,” Jake replies, looking at her expectantly. Amy’s mouth falls open, but no sound comes out. “Rosa’s birthday party?”

“What?” asks Amy dumbly.

“When I walked you home, we stopped at this intersection and you got all quiet, and I thought you were gonna throw up again, honestly, but then you just turned and kissed me. And then you did throw up again. Remember?”

Amy swallows, shaking her head at him. “Jake, I don’t remember anything from that night.”

“Oh,” he says. Realization spreads slow and heavy over his face. “Oh, fuck. I’m such an idiot."

“What?”

“I thought - I thought you just…didn’t want me,” he explains slowly, avoiding her gaze. “I thought you kissed me cause you were drunk and then when you realized I was your soul mate, you were…embarrassed or whatever.”

“Why would I be embarrassed?” asks Amy, searching his face.

“Cause I don’t know - you’re Amy, and you’re perfect, and I’m…a mess.” Amy opens her mouth to protest, but he keeps going, “And, I don’t know, I guess I was projecting maybe, but I got it into my head that you were, like, avoiding me, cause we never talked about the kiss and you were always too busy to hang out, and… I don’t know, I guess it made sense to me that you didn’t want to be my soul mate.”

“Jake, no,” Amy assures him, scooting closer to him on the couch so she can place her hand on his arm. He covers it with his own, catching her eye. “I wasn’t avoiding you. I just…didn’t know what to do with the feelings I had for you, and I was scared that you only saw me as a friend.” Taking a deep breath, she says, “And then when you started dating Sophia, I just couldn’t deal.”

Jake laughs, head falling back on the couch. “Wow, we’re so dumb, cause that’s kind of why I started dating Sophia in the first place,” he says. “I mean, I liked her, a lot, but mostly I thought, if you didn’t want me, I could at least hang out with someone who did.” Glancing at her remorsefully, he adds softly, “Sorry.”

Amy shakes her head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You don’t - belong to me.”

“Don’t I, though?” murmurs Jake, eyes drifting down to her lips. Amy swallows, leaning in, but before she can kiss him again, he looks away, scowling. “This sucks.”

“What?” asks Amy, her voice small.

“No, not - “ Jake says, hastily, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just - you can’t remember and now you have to just take my word for it that this really big thing happened.” With a renewed vigor, he stands up, pacing before her. “Maybe we can get the memory back! Like by hypnosis or something. That works in the movies sometimes, so you know, it’s probably legit.”

Amy remains silent as he talks, gesturing animatedly. She considers the unshakeable truth that she could listen to him talk for hours, even if most of what he says is nonsense. Something about the way his eyes light up lowers her blood pressure. And that’s when it occurs to her.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says simply. Jake stops, whirling around to look at her. A crease appears between his brow as he processes her words.

“What?” he asks faintly, shoulders tense like he’s bracing for rejection.

“It doesn’t matter,” she repeats. “I don’t need the memory back. I don’t - need to _know_ for certain that you’re my soul mate. I agonized for so long about it, that you weren’t my match, but now I realize… I don’t think I was really worried about that. I was just worried you wouldn’t want me back.”

Crossing back towards the couch, Jake says, “Ames, no offense, but that’s insane.” He clears his throat, laughing a little nervously before adding, “Look, I - I’ve been in love with you for… an embarrassingly long time. Like, you know, you smiled at me once freshman year, and I became obsessed with you.” Amy laughs, and Jake flashes her a grin, cheeks red. “So…you’re my soul mate, but even if you weren’t, I’d still want you. I’d still look for you in every crowded room.”

For all the books Amy’s read, she’s remarkably terrible at choosing the right words when it counts, so instead she cuts her losses and closes the space between them, pressing her lips against his. There aren’t any fireworks, no lightning strikes, or fanfare, but something much better in its place: a warmth spreading from her heart down to her toes as Jake responds immediately, slotting his hands onto her waist in a spot that feels made for him. It’s strange how kissing Jake feels like doing anything else with Jake, somehow dually a thrilling adventure and the most natural thing in the world. She leans further into him, threading her fingers through his hair -

“Oh my god!”

They break apart immediately, turning towards the door to find Rosa, Gina, and Charles standing there, looking smug, unimpressed, and over the moon, respectively.

“It happened!” cheers Charles. “It finally happened!”

“Pay up, losers,” mutters Gina with a smirk. “I told you it’d be November.”

Amy’s jaw drops as Rosa and Charles both dig money out of their wallets. “Did you guys…bet on us?” she asks.

Rosa rolls her eyes, handing Gina a twenty. “You two were taking so long to work out your shit. We had to do something to make it interesting.”

“To be fair, I thought it was gonna happen months ago,” says Charles. “I’ve lost a _lot_ of money.”

“So much,” confirms Gina.

“Now if you two idiots are done making out, we were gonna have a game night,” says Rosa, arms crossed. Jake looks at Amy, eyebrows raised in a question, and she shrugs, grinning.

“We’re in,” she says, hopping up off the couch. “Get ready to beg for mercy, assholes.”

“Title of Jake and Amy’s sex tape?” asks Charles with a grin.

“Ew, god! Boyle!” says Jake. Amy just laughs, holding out her hand to help him up off the couch. 

He doesn't let go. 

**Author's Note:**

> If y'all want it, I also might do a one-shot from Jake's POV. Thanks for reading!


End file.
